


Showers are for Pussies

by cherryvanilla



Series: Defining Moments Challenge [8]
Category: Dreyfus Affair - Peter Lefcourt
Genre: Defining Moments Vignette Challenge, Gen, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:49:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a shower.  Defining Moments Challenge. Written July 2002</p>
            </blockquote>





	Showers are for Pussies

IN THE CAR, on the way home, he blamed it on showers.

If he hadn't taken one, life would be just dandy, he'd go home and fuck his looker of a wife and that'd be all she wrote. Instead, he'd taken one; soaped down his body while he thought about tonight's game and the perfect home run he'd hit. He dropped the soap, and when he picked it up, his eyes trailed up the incredible body of the man across from him. D.J. Pickett - tall, muscled with dark, chocolate skin. He'd found his eyes focusing on the man's ass -- and dear God, what an ass. Droplets of water sliding over his skin, muscles rippling as he washed himself ... when Randy suddenly thought, 'what the fuck am I doing? I ain't no lefty!'

He turned away, tried to shake it all off, but he couldn't. Randy Dreyfus, married to the hottest fox in town, was getting a stiffy over another man. He'd left then, practically running and nearly slipping on the way to the locker room. He'd dried off quickly as the fellas came around and slapped him on the back, 'great game tonight, Shovel.' 'Say hello to that purty wife of yours.' 'Rushing home to celebrate, eh Randy? Ehhh?' Oh yeah, he needed to leave and fast.

Embarrassment then, huge Major League embarrassment as he tried to pull on his underwear and jeans so no one would notice his hardening dick. He ended up nearly fucking the lockers as he burrowed against them. Mission finally accomplished he'd turned around, about to throw his shirt over his head and hit the road, when Mr. Torment himself stepped out of the showers, gloriously naked with only a towel drying his short, dark hair. He looked over at Randy, gave a small smile and polite nod and kept on walking. That was it. Randy shot out of there like a cannonball, racking his brain, trying to come up with any other reason why this could have happened.

Which led him to this conclusion: Showers. Goddamned showers. And soap. Fucking slippery soap. That's it, from now on, he'd stink until he got home; he didn't care anymore. Now, away games, away games he'd just wait until he got to the hotel. Yes, that's what he'd do. But first, he'd go home and fuck his wife. He drove fast, faster than he ever had before, imagining thrusting inside Susie's body, kissing her soft skin, cupping her breasts, beautiful dark skin--

Fuck, no. White skin, girl skin, not ... D.J. Oh who was he kidding, yes D.J. -- naked and wet, that hard, toned body, those strong arms as he threw the ball to 3rd base.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. He was a married man with two kids and a gorgeous wife probably waiting up for him in a $50 silk teddy from Victoria's Secret. He'd go home and give her the ride of her life.

He just hoped he'd stop picturing D.J. naked by then.


End file.
